“Old Blood, New Rules”
Yoichi Nagumo x Ex–Port Mafia Reader
Cross-universe inspired by Bungo Stray Dogs tone + assassin world themes
Nagumo didn’t believe in coincidences. So when he saw you again, sitting in a dim bar like nothing in the world could touch you, he didn’t call it fate. He called it bad timing. You were nursing a drink you weren’t really drinking.
Same posture. Same calm stare. Same quiet pressure in the air that used to make Port Mafia members step aside without realizing why. Ex–Port Mafia. That part followed you like smoke that refused to disappear.
Nagumo leaned against the counter beside you like he belonged there.
“You picked a terrible place to hide,” he said casually.
You didn’t look at him.
“I’m not hiding.”
“Sure,” he hummed. “And I’m just here for the atmosphere.”
That got a faint shift in your expression. Not surprise. Recognition.
“You always talk too much,” you said.
“And you always look like you’re about to stab someone,” he replied.
A pause. Then, finally, you glanced at him.
“…You shouldn’t be here, Nagumo.”
“I get that a lot,” he said lightly.
The bartender chose that exact moment to leave. Smart man. Silence settled between you. Heavy, familiar, unfinished. You turned your glass slowly.
“I heard the rumors,” Nagumo said after a moment.
“That I left?”
“That you disappeared.”
A faint smile tugged at your mouth.
“Same thing.”
Nagumo studied you. Not like prey. Not like target. Like someone trying to solve a puzzle they didn’t remember starting.
“You look… fine,” he said.
“I am fine.”
“That’s usually what people say when they aren’t.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
“You didn’t come here for concern.”
“No,” he admitted. “I came because I don’t like loose ends.”
That made you exhale softly through your nose.
“Still the same.”
“Still you,” he corrected.
For a while, neither of you spoke. Outside the window, rain slid down neon-lit glass. Inside, the world felt suspended. Then you spoke quietly.
“Port Mafia doesn’t have loose ends. It has dead ones.”
Nagumo’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“You’re not dead.”
“No,” you agreed.
A pause.
“…Unfortunately.”
That got a low chuckle out of him. He slid into the seat next to you. Uninvited. You didn’t stop him. That said more than either of you liked.
“So,” he said, “what are you now?”
You finally looked at him properly. No hesitation. No softness. Just honesty.
“Free.”
Nagumo tilted his head.
“That’s a dangerous answer.”
“So was working for them.”
A beat. Then quieter.
“Was it worth it?”
That question lingered. Longer than expected. You looked away first.
“…I survived.”
Nagumo didn’t push further. That was new too. A distant siren wailed outside. You didn’t react. Nagumo did.
“Trouble?” he asked.
“Always,” you said.
He sighed.
“Of course it follows you.”
You glanced at him.
“You’re still here too.”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “Looks like it follows me as well.”
When the glass in front of you finally emptied, you stood. Nagumo didn’t stop you. But he did speak.
“Are you going to disappear again?”
You paused. Just for a second. Then glanced back over your shoulder.
“…Depends who’s asking.”
A faint smirk.
“That answer is so you it’s annoying.”
You hummed softly.
“Then don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
You turned to leave. But Nagumo’s voice stopped you one last time.
“This isn’t the Port Mafia anymore.”
You looked back. Rainlight flickering across your face.
“I know.”
A pause. Then softer than before.
“…That’s why I stayed this time.”
And just like that, you were gone into the rain. Nagumo watched you disappear into the neon night. Then sighed under his breath.
“Yeah,” he muttered.
“Still trouble.”
But he was already standing. Already following. Because some loose ends don’t want to be tied and some don’t want to be cut either.
